


In Our Own Sweet Time

by glittercracker



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Blizzards & Snowstorms, First Kiss, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Not quite canon but mostly compliant, Trick or Treating, do not copy to another site, holiday au, hxhgiftexchnge2018, teenage crushes, teenage pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 13:08:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17101169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glittercracker/pseuds/glittercracker
Summary: Killua has the perfect plan for a Christmas Eve with Gon. Guaranteed free chocolate! But he got a couple of cultural details wrong.Killua rolled his eyes, ignoring the sidelong glances of a few people they passed on the sidewalk. “No. We have to say, ‘Trick-or-treat!’ Then they give us the chocolate.”“What does that even mean, anyway?”“It means, ‘Give us chocolate or we’ll mess up your house.’”Gon’s dark eyes were quizzical on Killua’s face; Killua didn’t dare meet them. “Are we really going to mess up people’s houses? And I mean, mess them up, how? That doesn’t really seem to be in the…what did Leorio call it? Christmas spirit?”





	In Our Own Sweet Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [losing_sanity_fast](https://archiveofourown.org/users/losing_sanity_fast/gifts).



> Thank you to whoever requested this, though you couldn't complete the exchange: I would never, ever have thought of this idea on my own, and now I love it! Thank you also to fireolin and losing_sanity_fast for beta reading - your enthusiasm is always so very much appreciated, as is your friendship! <3 Finally, thank you to joolita (@art-little-nonsense on tumblr) for the commissioned illustration - it's perfect and I love it!

“Are you sure about this?” Gon asked Killua as he wrestled a set of felt antlers into his spiky hair, sending their adorning bells into a tinkling cacophony. 

 

Killua stood back, surveyed his friend, who was wearing a skin-tight skeleton suit, his green lace-up boots, a red furry jacket with white trim, and the antlers. In fact, Killua wasn’t sure about any of it, his information having come from one hazily recalled conversation with Kurapika about world traditions two years previous. But he also wasn’t going to let Gon see his doubt and start asking questions and inevitably derail his plans. 

 

“Perfect. You have the right colors on, and you look kind of scary.”

 

“Then what are the antlers for?”

 

Damn Gon and his questions! “They’re to represent the Magical Christmas Elk who comes out once a year on Christmas Eve and chases bad kids through town until their feet bleed,” he deadpanned. Of course this wasn’t true, but it had the desired effect: Gon’s face lit up like the gaudy, garlanded tree in Leorio and Kurapika’s living room.

 

“Killua!” He was nearly quivering with excitement. “Do you think that we’ll see it? Do you think we can  _ catch it?” _

 

Killua groaned inwardly. He hadn’t intended to create a distraction. “Well, do you consider yourself a bad kid?”

 

Gon thought about this for longer than Killua would have liked. “I can think of worse ones,” he said at last, giving Killua a pointed look.

 

“Nope,” Killua said, putting on his own antlers. “Assassination was never my idea, and I don’t do it anymore, so that doesn’t make me bad. Anyway, we aren’t doing this for the Christmas Elk. We’re doing this for chocolate!”

 

Gon looked mildly disappointed, but then Killua shoved a red satin pillowcase into his hand and said, “Come on, before all the other kids get the chocolate!”

 

“Umm, Killua, aren’t these the pillowcases Leorio got Kurapika for Christmas?”

 

“They don’t need to know we borrowed them.”

 

“Also, why is Leorio getting Kurapika weird shiny pillowcases for Christmas? I think I saw matching sheets, too, and I don’t really see the point of shiny sheets. They’d be really slippery.”

 

Killua looked at Gon, considered explaining, and then thought better of it. That explanation would lead to a litany of further questions, and time was ticking on the chocolate. Besides, Gon was fourteen. He’d figure it out soon enough.

 

“Makes it easier to get out of bed in the morning. Now let’s  _ go!” _

 

He grabbed Gon’s hand and dragged him out of the guest room they were sharing in the tiny flat, through the over-decorated living room, and then down the four flights of stairs to the street. Outside, the air was bitingly cold, moon and stars hidden behind low, thick cloud. It trapped the blazing lights of Yorknew, making the whole world glow a frowzy, deep orange.

 

“So we really just go to people’s doors and ask for chocolate and they give it to us because we’re wearing these stupid outfits?” Gon asked.

 

Killua rolled his eyes, ignoring the sidelong glances of a few people they passed on the sidewalk. “No. We have to say, ‘Trick-or-treat!’  _ Then  _ they give us the chocolate.”

 

“What does that even mean, anyway?”

 

“It means, ‘Give us chocolate or we’ll mess up your house.’”

 

Gon’s dark eyes were quizzical on Killua’s face; Killua didn’t dare meet them. “Are we really going to mess up people’s houses? And I mean, mess them up, how? That doesn’t really seem to be in the…what did Leorio call it? Christmas spirit?”

 

“We won’t  _ have  _ to mess up any houses, because they’ll be expecting us to come and have big bowls of sweets all ready to hand out.”

 

“Okay, so, where do we start?”

 

“A street with actual houses. I already scouted them out. There’s one not far from here.” 

 

They raced through the chilly streets until they arrived at a neighborhood of modest houses, most with wreaths hanging on the doors. “You go first,” Killua said to Gon.

 

His gold-brown eyes widened. “Me! This was  _ your  _ idea!”

 

“Yeah, but you’re the one everyone thinks is adorable.”

 

“Everyone doesn’t – wait.” He gave Killua a close look. “How do you know that, Killua? Do  _ you  _ think I’m – ”

 

“Just ring the doorbell, idiot!” Killua cried, glad that the bad lighting hid his furious blush. Well, hoping it hid it.

 

Gon dutifully rang the doorbell, and when it opened, Killua’s blush had faded enough for him to step into the light with Gon and announce, “Trick or treat!” opening his red satin pillowcase expectantly.

 

A frazzled-looking middle-aged woman stood in the doorway, a toddler balanced on one hip and twin girls who looked about ten standing behind her. The woman’s look turned to one of puzzlement as she gave Gon and Killua a once-over. The twins, after a moment of apparent shock, burst into laughter.

 

“Girls!” she snapped at them, and their laughter subsided into giggles. She turned back to the boys. “Aren’t you a little late for trick-or-treating?” she asked them, though her voice wasn’t unkind.

 

“I don’t think so?” Gon said. “It’s not even dinner time, and besides, we did just what our friend told us. You dress up on Christmas Eve as something scary and go around the neighborhood and grownups give you chocolate.”

 

She cocked an eyebrow. “You boys aren’t from around here, are you?” Killua thought that she might be repressing a smile, which made his color rise again, this time in anger.

 

“We are!” he snapped. “We live just a few streets that way!” He pointed in the direction of Leorio and Kurapika’s flat.

 

The woman shook her head. “Oh, well, never mind. I’m afraid I’m out of chocolate, but – girls! Please go get these boys two candy canes from the tree.”

 

Killua frowned. Though there weren’t many sweets he didn’t like, he had yet to find any redeeming qualities in the red-and-white-striped peppermint hooks that Leorio had been pressing on them since they arrived. But if there was no chocolate, there was no chocolate, and he dutifully accepted the candy-cane one of the twins slipped into his pillowcase. She glanced up at him, blushed, and then looked quickly away again. He wondered if there was something wrong with her. Or him. Doubt began to creep back in.

 

“Thank you! Merry Christmas!” Gon said, loudly cheerful as her sister gave him his own candy. She had the audacity to wink at Gon, who grinned at her.

 

Killua pulled him away quickly, but as they returned to the sidewalk Gon stopped, face tilted to the sky. “Killua, look! It’s snowing!”

 

And it was, feathery flakes sifting gently down from the laden clouds. Killua frowned. “Didn’t you smell it?” he asked.

 

“Hmm? The snow? Yeah, of course I did!”

 

“Well why didn’t you warn me?”

 

Gon looked puzzled. “Why would I warn you? It’s supposed to snow at Christmas. It’s normal.”

 

“Well, sure, but…” Killua trailed off. Gon was right, of course, and if he didn’t know that Killua hated being out in the snow following a particularly grim childhood training session, that was no one’s fault but his own. “Can you tell if it’s going to snow a lot?” he asked as they walked toward the next decorated house. 

 

“Probably about a foot,” Gon answered cheerfully, swinging his chocolate-less pillowcase. 

 

“We better hurry, then,” Killua said, and stepped up their pace to the house. This one appeared to have some kind of party going on inside, and when they rang the bell, a knot of tipsy twenty-somethings flung the door open. 

 

Before Killua and Gon could even get out their “trick or treat,” the women in the group were cooing over them, and one of them, a pretty girl with long violet hair, cried, “Carolers!”

 

“In skeleton suits?” one of the men asked dubiously.

 

“It’s probably some kind of post-modern statement,” the young woman retorted, and then, turning her fond and alcohol-warned smile back on the boys, she said, “What are you going to sing?”

 

“Sing?” Killua squeaked.

 

But Gon’s eyes turned thoughtful as he considered the request. “I think I remember this,” he said to Killua. “Leorio said something about it when we first got here – he wanted to take us to some park to hear carolers. They’re these people who dress up and sing Christmas songs.”

 

Killua looked from Gon to the expectant partygoers, sighing. This was all much harder than he had been led to believe. “We aren’t here to sing. We just came for chocolate.”

 

The violet-haired woman waved her hand. “You can have chocolate – after you sing.”

 

Killua looked at Gon in despair. “Do you know any Christmas songs?”

 

“Why would I know Christmas songs? This is the first time I’ve ever celebrated Christmas, same as you!”

 

“Do you know any songs at all?” Killua hissed in exasperation.

 

Gon thought. At last, he said, “I know the Whale Island national anthem. Most of it. I think.”

 

“Great. You start, I’ll join in on the chorus.”

 

Gon placed his hand over his heart, closed his eyes and began to sing – in a language that Killua had never heard before in his life. He hadn’t even known there  _ was _ a language specific to Whale Island, but just as he was thinking that it might have been an idea for Gon to fill him in on this before suggesting he sing in it, Gon landed a sharp kick to the back of his knee.

 

Killua yelped, and then attempted a wordless harmony that elicited various pained looks from their audience. After what seemed an eternity, Gon finally finished (or decided to spare them all any more torture) and the listeners gave them a half-hearted round of applause. 

 

“That was…unusual,” the young woman said. “But since you sang, you’ve earned chocolate!” She disappeared back into the crowd and Killua breathed a sigh of relief: there was light at the end of this tunnel. And then she returned, with an apologetic look and two handfuls of miniature candy canes.

 

“Sorry,” she said, “turns out Manissa melted all the chocolate for some kind of seasonal cocktail. But I brought you extra candy canes instead!” She deposited them in their respective pillowcases. “Merry Christmas!” she trilled, and shut the door.

 

As they made their way back to the street, Gon was silently pensive. At last, he ventured, “Killua, do you think maybe we’re doing something wrong? Like maybe we didn’t quite understand the rules.”

 

Killua shook his head stubbornly. “We’re doing it right. This just isn’t a very good street. Let’s try another one.”

 

And so he led them through the thickening snow to a different street, with bigger houses; but no matter what they tried, the best they got were strange looks and candy canes. Some people told them that they didn’t celebrate Christmas, in a tone that suggested this should have been obvious. One man told them that, but then gave them each a kind of small, wooden spinning-top with odd letters on the sides and wished them Happy Hanukah. One very old woman with a house of grandiose austerity gave them strings of flags in bright, primary colors and told them to hang them in the wind and they would find ultimate peace. Some people shut the door in their faces before they could ask for anything, and several small children started to cry at the sight of them. 

 

By the time the snow was six inches deep, they were both wet and shivering, with nothing to show for their efforts but two pillowcases half filled with peppermint candy. “Killua,” Gon said, “the snow is only going to get worse. I’m cold, and we obviously got something wrong about all this, so maybe we should just go home? We can buy extra chocolate in the sales next week.”

 

“I guess,” Killua said dejectedly, dragging his bag through the snow as they made their slow way back to the flat. Gon was right: he’d gotten it all wrong. Gods only knew how very wrong he’d gotten it, and he felt like a complete idiot. Mostly, though, he felt terrible about dragging Gon into it all in the first place. He’d promised him free chocolate, and now they were soaking and cold and miserable and loaded down with candy that didn’t deserve the name.

 

By the time they reached Leorio and Kurapika’s street, the snow was almost up to their knees. “I thought you said it would snow a foot,” Killua said gloomily.

 

Gon shrugged. “I didn’t say it would stop there.”

 

Killua had to laugh. They squelched up the stairs to the flat, shedding melting snow as they climbed. Gon had barely put his hand on the door latch when it flew open on a wild-looking Leorio. Kurapika sat curled on the sofa behind him, looking less wild but equally worried.

 

“Where have you two been?” Leorio cried. “Do you know what time it is? We were worried sick – ” And then he stopped, gaping at them. “What, in the name of god, are you two wearing? And are those my – um I mean Kurapika’s – ” He stopped, flushing darkly, eyeing up the wet pillow cases.

 

“We went trick-or-treating,” Gon said.

 

Leorio continued to gaze at them blankly. And then Kurapika began to laugh. At first he tried to hide it, covering his mouth, trying to keep it soundless, but in the end he couldn’t contain it. Peals of golden laughter burst out of him, and it was such a rare sound that after a moment, the others began to laugh with him. 

 

“Come inside, you little idiots, before you freeze to death!” Leorio said, ushering the two boys in. “Go change your clothes, and then explain. I’ll make hot chocolate.”

 

Killua brightened at that, and followed Gon into the guest room where they shucked their costumes and pulled on dry sleep clothes. When they came back to the living room, Kurapika was stoking the fire in the tiny hearth, and he insisted on tucking them under a blanket. Leorio returned with four steaming mugs and handed them around. Then he said, “So who wants to explain?”

 

Gon and Killua exchanged a glance, and then Killua said sheepishly, “It’s my fault.” He shot Kurapika an accusatory glare. “And yours.”

 

Kurapika choked on his hot chocolate. “Mine! I don’t think there is any reality, Killua Zoldyk, in which I would have suggested dressing up as some unholy conglomerate of a zombie and a reindeer and an overweight pagan saint!”

 

“But you did!” Killua insisted, determined to salvage at least a little dignity in the face of all he’d put Gon through. “It was way back, that night we had to spend locked up in Trick Tower. Gon and Leorio fell asleep and I was really bored and you told me about different world holiday traditions. You said that on Christmas Eve kids dress up as something scary and go trick-or-treating and people give them chocolate.”

 

Kurapika and Leorio exchanged a glance, and then both of them burst out laughing again. “Okay, that’s enough!” Killua cried. “At least I didn’t get my boyfriend red satin sheets for Christmas!”

 

“Who – what – ” Kurapika began, and then he gave Leorio a dark look. “What did you do?” he demanded.

 

“Um, well,” Leorio said, running a hand through his hair in discomfort. “You weren’t really supposed to know about that – until you did, obviously – but more to the point  _ you  _ weren’t supposed to know about that, Killua! Ever! Have you been snooping?”

 

Killua only smirked at him.

 

“Is it bad to buy your boyfriend satin sheets?” Gon asked, blinking around at them all. No one would meet his eye. He sighed. “Okay, fine, then at least tell me this: did we dress up wrong?”

 

Kurapika’s look softened, and he chuckled. “Yes, and no. Those outfits probably would have been fine – if you’d worn them on Halloween. All Hallows Eve.  _ Not  _ Christmas Eve.”

 

“So the dress up and get chocolate holiday is real?” Killua asked hopefully.

 

“Well, yes, in some countries. But you missed it by about two months.”

 

Killua sighed, glaring into his hot chocolate. “Great. So we made idiots of ourselves and all we got for it was a fuckton of the worst sweet ever invented.”

 

“What?” Leorio cried. “Candy canes are the epitome of Christmas! And don’t say ‘fuckton.’ It isn’t polite.”

 

“And satin sheets are,” Killua scoffed into his palm.

 

“Killua,” Leorio said through gritted teeth, “you are one comment away from sleeping outside in two feet of snow!”

 

“What  _ is  _ it about these sheets that no one will say?” Gon demanded.

 

“Enough about the sheets!” Kurapika admonished, his voice soft but firm and a flush on his cheeks. “And as for the candy canes, there’s another holiday tradition you probably don’t know, Killua.” He got up, rummaged in the ruined pillowcases, and retrieved four peppermint sickles. 

 

“What?” Killua asked dubiously.

 

“They go quite well with hot chocolate.” Kurapika unwrapped one and dropped it into Killua’s cup. “Before you yell at me, stir it, then taste it.”

 

Killua gave him a dark look, but did as instructed. He swirled the candy in the hot chocolate until it began to melt, then he sipped it. Cold and warmth bloomed across his tongue at the same moment, the sharp peppermint cutting the chocolate’s sweetness. “Mmmm,” he murmured, before he could stop himself, and gulped down the rest.

 

“See?” Leorio said. “Good, right?” He finished his own cup and then drew Kurapika, currently perched on the edge of his armchair, into his lap. Kurapika resisted for a moment, and then he settled into Leorio’s arms.

 

Killua smirked, as Gon watched with wide eyes. “Bedtime, kids!” Leorio announced, waving a hand toward the guest room.

 

“Come on,” Killua grumbled, taking Gon by the hand and pulling him toward their room. “Let’s get out of here before they do something gross.”

 

Killua closed the door to the guest room firmly behind them, but Gon continued to stare at it. After a moment he turned to Killua and asked, “Do you really think whatever they’re doing out there is gross?”

 

“Gon,” Killua said, diving under the blankets, “can you please shut up about this before I become physically ill?”

 

“They’re probably kissing. Does thinking about kissing make you ill?”

 

Killua groaned, and pulled the blankets over his head. A moment later Gon crawled in too, shuffled his way under the blankets. Awkward as it was – and when, gods, had this become awkward? – Killua was glad of Gon’s warmth. It was like a summer sun, radiating out from his body. 

 

“So?” Gon asked, snuggling close to Killua, to his dismay and delight. “Does it?”

 

“As a general rule, no, I guess not,” Killua grumbled. “When it’s Kurapika and the old man though…blech!” he shuddered.

 

Gon was quiet for a moment. Then he asked, “Do you think they’re in love? Leorio and Kurapika?”

 

Killua sighed, turned over to let Gon burrow his cold feet under Killua’s calves. “I don’t know. I don’t think  _ they  _ even know.”

 

Gon considered this for a time, wriggling his still-cold toes. “ _ I _ think they’re in love. And I don’t think kissing is gross if you’re in love.”

 

Killua managed to hang onto some semblance of calm as he said, “I see.”

 

“Also,” Gon said, slipping his hand into Killua’s and twining their fingers, sending Killua’s heart into a frenzy, “I don’t think those sheets are meant to make it easier to get out of bed in the morning. I think they’re meant to make it harder.”

 

_ Holy fucking –  _ Killua had just begun to think, when Gon spoke again.

 

“Killua?”

 

“Yeah, Gon?” he answered, half-strangled.

 

“I’m glad you took me trick-or-treating.”

 

“You – what? Why? I got it all wrong!”

 

Gon’s voice was shifting toward sleep when he answered: warm, a little garbled, so very sweet. “But you tried. And I think you tried, at least a little bit, for me.”

 

Killua blushed hotly for the umpteenth time that night. “No. It was all for the chocolate!”

 

“Mmm-hmm,” Gon breathed, all mint and chocolate and sunshine. “Killua?”

 

“What?” Killua asked, willing his stupid hormonal teenage body to stay in check: a tall order with the love of his life pressed up against him.

 

“I have something for you. For Christmas.”

 

“What?” Killua asked more softly.

 

Gon retrieved one hand from Killua’s, laid it on his cheek and turned his head gently, so that they were facing each other. Then he pressed his lips, warm and soft and still sugar-sweet, to Killua’s own. Killua froze; and then he thawed. He thawed in places he hadn’t known were frozen. Tears beaded in his eyes, because how could Gon know, how could he possibly have guessed that this was Killua’s dearest wish?

 

After a few blissful moments, Gon pulled away. “I hope you didn’t think that was gross. I’m sorry if you did.”

 

“I didn’t,” Killua whispered, wishing he knew the words to tell Gon that the moment just past was the most perfect moment of his life. Instead, tentatively, he reached out a hand and ran it along Gon’s hair. It wasn’t nearly as coarse as he’d imagined. In fact it was almost soft, and very warm, like Gon himself. Gon let out a little, happy, murmur as his breathing tipped toward the slow cadence of sleep. 

 

But then he shifted, and spoke once more. “Maybe one day,” he mumbled into Killua’s shoulder, “I’ll buy you red shiny sheets. When we’re older. But for now, is this good enough?” He pushed still closer, until there was no space left between them. 

 

“This,” Killua said, cuddling into Gon and closing his eyes, “is perfect.”


End file.
